Like the Sea To the Earth
by Astrantia
Summary: He meant so much to me. And I didn't tell him until it was too late. SheppardWeir. Character death.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Stargate Atlantis. At all.

**Title: **Like the Sea To the Earth

**Pairing: **Sheppard/Weir

**Content: **Angsty, reflection type.

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I have heard many stories about near death experiences; how there's a tunnel with a bright light at the very end or a serene, smiling angel with arms spread open in welcome. Sometimes there's a deep voice, guiding one along the shadowy path of death.

But for me, there's none of that. For me, there's just a soothing world of darkness, where I'm free of troubles and nothing ever moves me. And the difference is, I'm not near death. I am dead.

I'm not literally. I'm still breathing, still commanding this great city. Still take in the invigorating ocean air every single night. Still watch my people work and feel a dull sort of pride as they solve complex problems or form closer bonds with one another.

But I have never been the same since he died. I know that, my friends know that and those who regard me as their leader know that.

He was as much a part of me as the sea is to the earth. It's sad that I only realised that after he was gone. Even sadder, I always knew he had a strange effect on me. After all, I, Elizabeth Weir, had never been reduced to a shivering wreck because of a single person before him.

That should have told me something. But I hid it all, arguing with myself that our positions made a romantic relationship too complicated, that he only felt for me what a good friend would feel and that he and Teyla were a better match. I ignored the special looks he reserved for me, ignored the fact we always stood barely an inch apart when in the same room. Ignored the fact that I was falling into a spiral of merciless love.

And then came the day when I began believing in fate. For how could it be that the day I chose to reveal my feelings for him, that he would be snatched by the Wraith? How could I be at the receiving end of such cruelty?

I still remember, the memory sliding easily into my mind, how my heart twisted as his team stepped through the shimmering 'gate without him. How my eyes focused hazily on the wetness still visible on Teyla's cheeks, the emptiness in Aiden's expression and the grief written all over Rodney. I knew, before they told me, that he was gone. And I fled, to our balcony, where the salt in the air blended with the salt of my tears.

We held a memorial service for him on the mainland, under the tree dotted with pretty blossoms where he played ball with the Athosian children. I spoke at the service but what words could have ever described him? Sweet, kind, strong, brave? They weren't enough.

I stopped feeling when he died. My life, my existence, was an endless routine. Atlantis was a prison; I was free to roam its halls, but I felt trapped. I felt empty. I was, in a way, mechanical, doing things for the sake of it or when it had to be done. I was abandoning my role as the sturdy leader.

One cold night, while clearing out his room, so lifeless, I chanced upon a simple blue notebook, filled with his writing. In that book was everything he never told me, his hopes, his thoughts, his love for me.

I think after I read it, I began to. . . become human again. I became aware of how quickly I was sinking into that unforgiving pit of despair and depression. I was pushing away supporting friends, but I guess I didn't want their pity. To have someone tell me they knew how I felt, when no one ever can, is the worst thing in the world.

I missed him, more than I could bear. But after seeing his diary, I remembered something uttered by my best friend before she passed away from cancer. She told me that life's too short to dwell on one thing. He had died, but I still lived. And I needed to really live, not just be a shadow flitting from one place to the next. If not for me, for him and everything he believed in.

From these events, I learnt that I should never wait for something until it's too late. If I could turn back time and tell him how I feel, I would. But life rarely gives you second chances. I didn't get one.

I wept last night, for the first time in a month. I cried myself to sleep, something I haven't done since I was a little girl who'd just had a big fight with her older brother. And in the morning, I was Dr. Elizabeth Weir once more, prepared for whatever came my way.

No matter how healed I feel now, a part of me died the day John Sheppard died. And that part will never be whole again.


End file.
